


Series of Phrases

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Blood, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:55:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7736797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gunna start a collection of drabble prompts.  Will add tags as they come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. McCree & Hanzo : "Your Clothes"

**Author's Note:**

> Taking prompts on my tumblr: sympatheos.tumblr.com/ask  
> Send me a ship and a few words or phrases there. I'll post the result here.  
> Each chapter titled with Ship + Word or Phrase requested.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> request from captaindemetrios

Hanzo’s breath ragged as he relaxed his posture, bow lowered as he scanned over bodies. McCree came running to him, reloading as he did so. 

“Your clothes,” Jesse pointed out. Hanzo looked at the holes. He wobbled, realizing they were soaked with blood.

“Shit!” Jesse caught the archer as he stumbled, practically dragging him to safety. The adrenaline rush had quelled every ounce of pain to the point Hanzo hadn’t realized he’d been shot so many times. 

McCree pulled him close as they waited for the rest of the team to find them. Hanzo shivered against him, pale and hissing through his teeth, vision full of spots.

“Everythin’s gunna be fine,” the cowboy promised as softly as he could. Flesh hand pressing the wounds, metal hand brushing back sweat-soaked hair from Hanzo’s face. Hanzo barely registered the gentle press of lips to his brow before everything went black.


	2. Zenyatta & Genji : "In the rain"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> request from captaindemetrios

Genji stood out in the rain as rolling thunder passed over him. A flash of lightning in the distance, another deep echo. His ribbon beat wildly in the wind. He looked at his hand, water beading and rolling over him. He rubbed his pointer finger and thumb, the rain felt different than he remembered with flesh.

“Genji?” called a filtered voice. The green of his visor flickered as he looked over.

“It feels different,” he said simply.

Zenyatta nodded and joined him outside, leaving the safety of the canopy. The rain made a hollow, tinny sound against his metal. His hands folded in front, head tilted to Genji and optic sensors brightened – a stark electric blue against the dark of the storm.

A flash of lightning. It made both the green and blue of the pair static for a moment.

The crescendo of thunder roared between them.

Hesitant, Genji reached his hand toward his Master, the back of his finger tracing a line over the Omnic’s faceplate. The gentle shift of friction caused a shock between them, startling Genji enough to gasp and pull away.

Zenyatta chuckled.

“Perhaps we should admire the storm inside, lest we become caught in its fury.”

Genji nodded mutely. Zenyatta’s hand ghosted over his; another snap of shock, another playful chuckle.


	3. Genji & Zenyatta : "Hanzo"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From nippleburgler:  
> "If you're doing the drabble request still, could you do one with Genyatta with Zen being introduced to Hanzo? It's fine if you don't want to, it's just been on my mind lol"

Hanzo was as still and unmoving as a mountain, and perhaps just as rigid. A breeze flitted through the air, and his yellow ribbon wished to be taken away with it as it contrasted him with gentle movement. He stood over the edge of a cliff, a small grove behind him of cedar, birch, and ash. The frigid air chilled, sun approaching the horizon as minutes swept by over the blanket of trees and rock.

Genji may have a light step, but he made himself known, without trying to hide himself through the thicket and forested ground. His steps were heavy enough to rustle the leaves beneath him, but light enough to let the insects creep free from his steps. Hanzo looked over his shoulder with an expression of cold stone. Internally, he gathered himself, disallowing his anger to flair at the sight of the hovering creature beside his once-brother. Still-brother, he reminded himself.

He was always brimming with emotion, but taught to keep such things to himself since he was young. That was no different now as he half-stepped to turn. The Omnic’s own steps were as silent and light as Genji’s as he set himself down. Hanzo’s eyes flitted between the nine glowing spots and the pair of notches beneath them. Briefly he was reminded of an illusion, a pair of faces or a vase. Where were his eyes? Hanzo settle for looking at the space between the spots and notches until he found out for himself. While his anger was still something that desired to rear its ugliness, it was a cover, a reaction, to something more troubling: a shame he could not bury. This Omnic helped save his brother from himself – a task Hanzo, Genji’s own brother, could not do. A task that forced Hanzo’s hand. A task that took their bond and tore it down. Hanzo would never touch a sword again. 

“I am Tekhartha Zenyatta,” the Omnic’s voice reverberated in the breeze; Hanzo could almost feel the tinny echo within it. The Omnic bowed shallowly, in greeting, in honor, in peace. Hanzo bowed then, too, still uneasy that he was before this creature but regarded him with an ounce of less spite. This Omnic helped save his brother. 

“You may call me Zenyatta.”

Hanzo did not glance, but noticed in the blur of his peripheral Genji was a little stiff. Nervous, perhaps. Hanzo did not enjoy the implication of Genji’s closeness to this particular Omnic, even less than having heard he had taken the creature up as his Master. He did not comment aloud, not even to Genji. It was not his place. This Omnic helped save his brother. 

“I am Shimada Hanzo.” The words seemed enough for his brother, whose posture relaxed. 

It was a start.


	4. Young McCree & Reaper : "I've got you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from Captaindemetrios

“I’ve got you,” Reaper soothed, Jesse McCree clinging to him as hot tears spilled down his face. Jesse suppressed a groan, blood pouring from his once-arm.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated as gently as he could, the smoke and decay still rotting his voice. He murmured again in Jesse’s hair, mindful of sharp claws as Jesse clung to him dearly, young face and barely enough hair on his chin to bother calling that a beard. He remembers, for a moment, the pang of guilt his former self, Gabriel Reyes, would feel once Jesse was retrieved after this mission. He rips a piece of cloth from his coat and wraps the bleeding end as best he could, Jesse’s wet face digging into his Kevlar-armored chest as he cried out in pain.

“Shhh,” he tried, adjusting his legs so Jesse would be more comfortable. 

“You’ll be safe soon.” 

At the sound of heavy boots, Reaper’s image began to fade into smoke, but not without hearing a pitiful plea from Jesse McCree, begging him to stay, his one hand clinging to Reaper’s belt. The black smoke dissipated, and he knew how the rest would play out. His old self, Gabriel Reyes, would find him behind the oak tree in the midst of the dark, arm bleeding out, calling for a medic, tell the kid he’s going to be fine. “I’ve got you,” he’ll say again. He recalled, vaguely, in the moments after he vanished, Jesse will ask his younger self, his “present” self,  _what the fuck was that_? And he’ll have no idea what he was talking about. A black smoke thing, a monster with a skull for a face. 

Reaper understood now, twenty years later. Earlier. He hates time. 


	5. McCree & Hanzo : "I Promise"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Captaindemetrios
> 
> Suicidal Ideation warning.

“Sometimes dyin’ don’t sound too bad.” The words were quiet, but so very serious. McCree was capable of it, certainly – of being serious. But how sharp the words felt against Hanzo’s lips in the midst of the quiet night. Hanzo traced McCree’s jaw, eyes serene and understanding. The words were bitter and hopeful and a little sad. Hanzo knew too well what it felt like, to have those you care about ripped from you. Hanzo knew too well, the desire to die but shame of doing it yourself.

Hanzo nodded shallowly against McCree’s chest, pulling him closer, legs tangled and cheek pressed against the man’s furry, peppered chest. He could feel the palpitation of McCree's heart beating against his chest. Proof of living.

“The dead seem to be coming back, these days,” Hanzo muttered. It was a joke, and McCree cracked a smile but it too was bitter.

“Sometimes feels like… Like missions are kinda all we got left. Doin’ right by savin’ people.”

McCree’s breath wisped a few hairs atop Hanzo’s head, the yellow ribbon discarded some time ago.

“Dyin’ll just disappoint people. Livin’s gettin’ real hard.”

Hanzo tightened his arms around Jesse, closing his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to comfort the cowboy or himself.

“Promise me, though.”

Hanzo looked up, waiting.

“Promise me you’ll keep going?”

Hanzo sucked in his lips automatically.

“Promise me you won’t let anyone kill you.”

 _Let_. Hanzo’s hand pulled McCree’s face down to incline further, lips touching and feather light.

“Only that we both promise we will not end ourselves.”

McCree smiled against his lips and nodded.

“I promise.”

Hanzo kissed him.

“I promise.”


End file.
